Shower Gifts, Tantrums, and Oh So Sweet Ribbony Revenge

I have to say, one of the greatest parts of having a transition in life...i.e. graduation, promotion,  baby, wedding (not particularly in that order) is the awesome loot that usually accompanies it.

Tuesday, our first wedding shower gift came in the mail and the label of Williams & Sonoma on the box was enough to make me nearly pee my pants with excitement.

Well, I take that back. Technically, this wasn't the first shower gift, the first arrived at my mother's house on Saturday. However, I was chased off whenever I got remotely close to the gift, like a dog lifting his leg on the Christmas tree. You see, I can't handle suspense, surprises, and spontaneity.

Someone once said, "Isn't delayed gratification the definition of maturity?" Clearly, I was dealing with something waaaaaaaay beyond my maturity level.

The Ensuing Argument *with minor embellishments* : 

Me to Jonathan: Now darling, the sooner we open this, the sooner we can graciously thank the giver for this lovely item. I can start the thank you card immediately.

Jonathan: Get away from that box! Don't make me come over there, I'm not buying your lame excuse. You're like a kid!!! You have to wait until the person is at the shower so you can open it in front of her.

Me: *pouts* but this person isn't even coming, that is why she sent it ahead. I should at least be able to get the card out.

Jonathan: No dice. Back away from the gift.

Me: It has MY name on it, it is addressed to ME, I should get to decide the fate of the box.

Jonathan: Don't make me call your mother. She will side with me on this one.

Me: You wouldn't dare. (he didn't have to, her ears must have been burning on her vacation because she called us just then.)

Me to Mom: Mommy dear, the most enormous package has arrived and I would be ever so pleased if I could open it. Of course, I only want to open it so I could write the thank you note directly as you raised me to attend to such matters in a expeditious manner.

Mom to Me: I don't think so. (I'm sure I heard finger snapping on the other end of the line.)

*Jonathan observes my pout*
Jonathan yells to Mother: I told her she couldn't open it!!!!

*Me practicing dexterity of middle finger in Jonathan's general direction*

Mother: I agree with Jonathan. You can't open it until the party.

Me: Blast. *hang up*

So on Tuesday when the UPS man throws this package outside the porch, I was at first taken aback. What was this. Then the Williams & Sonoma  label tipped me off that there was cooking-related, joy-inducing gadgets inside.Since no one was around to get on to me, I couldn't resist. I told myself the box (which is the size of a small dorm room fridge) was too big to lug down 3 flights of stairs, 90 miles to the shower on Saturday, just to drag it back across Houston and up the stairs again. Besides...the UPS guy so carelessly tossed it on the porch, the contents could have been broken and I would need to report any damage directly!!!

I opened the box slowly and carefully, savoring each layer of bubble wrap. Inside the jumbo box was a beautifully wrapped box, still quite large. The paper was thick and luxurious, with pineapples (the symbol of hospitality) all over it. I savored the texture of the paper, almost regretting having to end its short, beautiful life. I'm a sucker for lavishly packaged gifts. (I still seal letters with wax and ribbon). Speaking of ribbon, the box was wrapped in a 10ft, emerald satin ribbon. Oh!!!!!!!!!!! The decadence! I slowly pull to unwrap the bow, but not before hastily snapping this out of focus shot to text to Jonathan later:

Kitty stands in for perspective.

I open this box to two more boxes inside. (At this point I am beginning to think this might be a joke, like the Christmas my cousin wrapped up a refrigerator box with like ten, progressively smaller wrapped boxes inside of it... only to find the the last box had a small trinket inside like a political button). Nevertheless, I open the interior boxes to find a beautiful stoneware pie dish and cake stand. One Italian made, the other French. I snapped a respectable picture to send with the thank you note:

Notice me clutching the ever so lovely ribbon in my hands. (OH! and the clean kitchen behind me!)

However, I don't think this picture accurately portrayed the true essence of my joy at this moment. After a brief contemplation, I decided that my bleaders knew me well enough to guess how I really reacted when I opened the box. For those of you who are newbies...see below:

Cooking stuffs and ribbon...what more could a foodie ask for?